Garlic Girls

by Adrien Leduc

GARLIC GIRLS

  Adrien Leduc

  (Leduc, Adrien 1987- )

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the author, nor be otherwise circulated in any form than that in which it is published.

  SYNOPSIS

  Templeton, Maine has a problem. A vampire problem.

  PROLOGUE

  If you'd asked me four weeks ago why every girl in Templeton, Maine wears a necklace of garlic under her shirt, I'd have thought you were crazy. Crazy for asking. But not anymore. You see, Templeton is a strange place. Strange because it's got a certain history. A history no one talks about. Least of all the people who live here. But I'm getting a little ahead of myself...

  "Tina, Tina, Tina. You do realize that your precious little California smile doesn't work here. Right?"

  I glare at Stacey Niedermeyer.

  "What's a California smile?"

  "Oh, you know," she answers, raising her palms and shrugging dramatically, "that fake smile with those chemically whitened teeth. That smile that says you're better than us."

  "What!? I don't think - "

  "Leave it," Tom groans, taking my arm and pulling me toward our lockers.

  Too tired to argue, I let my best friend - well, my only friend at Templeton High - remove me from the gaggle of girls gathered outside Mrs. Chatterson's classroom.

  "You can't let her get to you."

  We stop beside my locker and he releases my arm.

  "I'm not letting her get to me," I snap, stealing one last glance at Stacey and her entourage as they turn and head in the other direction.

  Hands folded across his binder, Tom smirks. "Uh..."

  "I just wanted to know what she meant by my California smile."

  "Well, she told you."

  I nod, suddenly annoyed as I recalled what she had said.

  "How is my smile fake? When I smile, it's for real. And chemically whitened? Excuse me, but I brush three times a day. That's it, that's all. No chemical whitening."

  Tom looks at me with raised eyebrows, his head cocked to one side.

  "And," I persist, "I'm not even from California. Well, not really. I mean, we lived there for ten years," (I can feel Tom eyeing my sun-bleached hair and golden tan as though I'd lived there longer), "but I was born here. In Maine. Only reason we went out there was for my dad's new job. But now that my parents are separated..."

  The sudden memory of my parents' split hit me like a ton of bricks and I let out a groan as I crack the com lock on my locker.

  "It's not fair."

  I fling the door open and begin rifling through the messy storage space. Gum wrappers. Empty tampon box. A gazillion sheets of looseleaf. A half-eaten chocolate bar.

  "Divorce is pretty common these days, Tina."

  I pop my head out from around the open locker door and give Tom a death stare. "Thanks, but that doesn't make me feel any better. And for the record, my parents aren't divorced. They're separated."

  He shrugs and goes into his own locker as I bury my nose in mine once more.

  Five minutes later we’re stalled at the top of the tall flight of stairs that leads down to the exit doors. A thousand students, eager to leave for the day, are causing a traffic jam worthy of an L.A. freeway.

  "So where to today?" I ask half-heartedly as we descend one step at a time.

  Lately we've been taking advantage of the unusually warm Fall weather and our mutual love of bike riding to explore the hundreds of winding forest paths in and around Templeton, many of them seldom used and overgrown with branches and cobwebs and other icky things. Most girls I know would be bothered by that kind of stuff, but it doesn't bother me because I like a bit of adventure. My mom says I get my sense of adventure from my dad - or rather, my father, as she's recently taken to calling him, the word dad clearly too good for him in her eyes - but that can't be right because my dad, Thomas Sewell the third, is about the most boring guy you'll ever meet.

  "Sorry, can't today."

  I can practically feel my face fall. "Oh."

  Tom smiles apologetically. "Dad needs my help planting a batch of new saplings again. He says they've all gotta be in the ground by this weekend - otherwise they won't survive the winter."

  "Hey," I say brightly, "why don't I come and help?"

  "Uh...sorry, but it's...dad prefers that it's just him and I. It's kind of our...father, son time together...know what I mean?"

  "Unfortunately, I don't," I answer more irritably than I'd intended.

  My dad had never had time to do anything with me. He was always busy working. Working, working, working. That's part of the reason mom had decided to leave and take me back to Maine.

  "But next week," Tom continues, looking at me, his eyes hopeful and expectant.

  He watches me closely, waiting for me to smile.

  I crack after a minute - though I’m still disappointed. "Fine. Next week. But you're going to owe me, buster," I add, sticking a finger into his chest.

  "Deal."

  We reach the bottom of the stairwell and step outside.

  "Hmm, it's going to rain, anyway," I observe aloud, glancing up at the grey sky overhead. "Not the best weather for biking."

  Tom nods, but says nothing as his gaze settles on a white pick-up truck parked beside the sidewalk.

  "Holloway's Tree Nursery" is written on the door panel in green lettering.

  "That's my dad."

  I smile. "I figured."

  "He'll want to get started early. Before we get a huge downpour."

  I follow Tom's gaze upwards as small droplets of rain begin to fall. I pull my hood over my now frizzy hair.

  "Maybe we'll have to do something indoors next time we hang out."

  Tom looks at me and smiles. "Sure. My mom's been bugging me to have you over for dinner."

  "Really?"

  "Yeah."

  I’m flattered.

  "Wow. I'd like to meet your mom - and your dad," I add as a honk sounds from the truck.

  "You totally can," Tom answers, turning to go. "How about Monday or Tuesday or something?"

  "Sounds good."

  He smiles and runs a hand through his wavy, black hair. "Cool."

  "Well...I guess I'd better get going."

  I kick awkwardly at a bunch of quack grass that’s sprouted up through a crack in the sidewalk.

  "Yeah...me too."

  I nod, smiling. "For sure."

  "Alright. See ya."

  He turns and jogs towards the truck.

  "See ya," I mutter, throwing him a small wave.

  Great. Now I have to actually go home and do homework.

  What a way to spend a Friday...

  Swinging around so that I face the other way, I trudge up the sidewalk, suddenly feeling as grey as the sky above. It’s just two blocks to the little house my mom and I rent.

  That’s one thing that’s sure different from living in L.A. In a small town like Templeton, my mom and I have no commute. It’s a five minute walk to school for me and just a fifteen minute drive to her job at the nursing home. It sure beats sitting in traffic for three hours.

  I arrive at our small, blue bungalow several minutes later. Seventy-four Elmwood Avenue. Blue trim. Blue planter boxes hanging from the two front windows. Wrought iron stair railings.

  It’s nothing luxurious, but it’s a place my mom and I can call home.

  Inside, I drop my bag on the table by the door and after a quick snuggle with our grey tabby, Rufus, I head for the kitchen to fix myself a snack. A bowl of cornflakes. Milk. One percent. None of that fatty stuff.

  I’m slicing a banana over the delicious concoction when I hear the doorbell.
>
  Who can that be?

  Setting down the half-sliced banana, I rinse and dry my hands and hurry to the front door.

  Mindy. Mindy from two houses down. Mindy from Biology who no one seems to ever want to sit beside.

  I pull away from the peep hole wondering whether I should open the door. Rufus dances between my calves, rubbing against me. He meows after a second, loud enough for Mindy to hear.

  "Tina? Are you there?"

  Sigh.

  Thanks, Rufus.

  She'd been by before. Twice actually. The first day my mom and I had moved in and then again last week. Both times I'd ignored her.

  "Tina?" she repeats.

  How the heck did she know my name, anyway?

  I pull the door open.

  "Hey Mindy."

  Bottle cap glasses, braces, and a flower print dress.

  "Come on in," I say quickly, yanking her inside as a group of cute guys I recognize from Math turn onto my street, pushing and jostling each other and kicking around a hacky sack. The last thing I need after being here just three weeks is to be seen hanging around Mindy. That would be instant social suicide.

  I close the door behind her and Mindy pushed her glasses back up onto the bridge of her nose.

  "Nice place you've got here."

  "Um...thanks."

  We settle in the livingroom, Mindy seeming content to lie on the floor in front of the T.V. and pet Rufus while I eat my cereal on the couch.

  "Can I get you something? Cookies or an apple or something?"

  Mindy shakes her head. "No. It's rainy today."

  Um...

  "It's rainy today so you can't eat?"

  Mindy looks at me through her thick lenses, her brown eyes unblinking.

  "No girl in Templeton should eat when it rains."

  "And why is that?" I ask, somewhat nervous now about my guest.

  Is she some sort of psycho? I eye the door to make sure I can make a run for it if I have to. But what about Rufus?

  I glance at my cat. He’s purring and lying on his side and seems to be on cloud nine with Mindy's fingers working his belly fur and caressing his chin.

  "Because those are the girls that get taken."

  "Taken?"

  Mindy nods. "Yeah. By the vampires."

  I nearly spit out my cereal.

  "Vampires!?"

  Mindy shrugs. "Well, there might be just one. No one knows for sure. But there's at least one in Templeton."

  "Excuse me?"

  Oh my God. She really is crazy. No wonder no one in class wants to sit with her.

  "Everyone in town knows about the vampires," Mindy continues. "They just don't talk about it."

  "What do you mean? What's there to talk about it? What do you know?"

  I can't stomach my cereal anymore and I set it on the coffee table.

  "Well, every month a girl from Templeton goes missing. And always on a rainy day because that's when the vampires eat."

  "But...but..." I splutter. "How come the FBI and the CIA and like every law enforcement agent from across the country aren't here investigating!? A girl every single month!? That's crazy! This should be like...national news!"

  Mindy shrugs. "I guess they've just gotten used to it. It's been like this for more than a hundred years. At least that's what my mom told me."

  "Well, how come everyone just doesn't leave?"

  "Some have tried...they always come back though. Your mom came back."

  "She...we came back because my parents separated," I reply hotly.

  How does she know my mom’s from Templeton?

  I give Mindy a cold stare. She doesn't seem to mind.

  "She still came back though. My mom knew your mom. In high school. My mom tried to leave once too. She moved to Boston when she was twenty-two, but ended up back here just a year later because my grandpa got cancer."

  "Okay...so people try to leave Templeton and come back. That still doesn't explain the vampires."

  "Well, I guess it's part of the vampires' power."

  I snort. "Come on. You're joking right?"

  I stare at her, waiting for her to crack a smile and tell me she’s making it all up, trying to scare the new girl. But she doesn't.

  "No. I'm not. Ask your mom. She'll tell you."

  My mom had never mentioned anything about vampires. As far as I knew, she didn't believe in anything that was remotely superstitious or paranormal.

  "I will. And when she tells me there's no such thing and that it's all just a bunch of nonsense, I sure won't be talking to you again."

  "Suit yourself," say Mindy, sitting up.

  Now she seemed to mind.

  Crack.

  A fork of lightning flashes across the sky outside and Rufus darts from the living room. I look outside, nonplussed. A bit of lightning doesn't scare me. And neither does Mindy's stupid vampire story.

  "My mom will be home soon and I’ve got to finish my chores," she says, rising to her feet and making her way to the door.

  I don't bother to move from the couch.

  Stupid, Mindy.

  "Alright. See ya."

  "Bye."

  Crack.

  Another fork of lightning flashs across the sky as Mindy makes her way outside. After a minute I get up and go to the door, shutting it and locking it.

  I'd take a nice hot bath and then get to my homework. And as for Mindy, I wouldn't be speaking to her again.

  I awake the next morning to sunlight filtering in through the curtain and birds chirping outside.

  Saturday.

  The smell of pancakes wafts into my room from under my bedroom door.

  Saturday. Pancakes. Sunny outside. This was shaping up to be a swell day.

  I slide out of bed and kick on my slippers before padding downstairs.

  "Mornin', mom."

  "Hey, honey. Did you get a good sleep? You went to bed pretty early last night."

  I sit down at the table and pour myself a tall glass of orange juice. My mom is dressed in a white top and faded overalls and her hair is tied back with a strip of fabric.

  "Yeah, after my bath I just felt so sleepy. It's those bath oils. The jasmine or whatever that stuff is. I always forget."

  My mom nods, smiling, as she slaps two pancakes on a plate and sets it before me.

  "Yes, the jasmine one. I love that stuff. It was your aunt Cyndi who got me that bath oil kit. I think. For Christmas a few years ago."

  "Yeah," I answer, my mouth already salivating at the sight of the pancakes in front of me.

  I reach for the syrup bottle and slather the sugary goodness all over them.

  "Oh, hey, mom. Before I forget."

  "Yes?"

  "I was meaning to ask you. Yesterday after school Mindy stopped by and we got talking and she told me some pretty strange stuff."

  "Mindy?"

  "The girl from two houses down. Brown hair. Glasses. She wears these ugly flower print dresses. She stopped by last week."

  "Oh, okay."

  My mom looks at me as she makes her way back to the stove and adds more batter to the pan.

  "Yeah, she told me - now believe me, don't judge me because I actually listened to her - even though I shouldn't have - because it's so stupid - "

  "Yes, alright. What did she say?"

  "She said that there are vampires in Templeton and that they eat girls on rainy days. Oh, and girls that have full tummies too, I guess. She said she doesn't eat on rainy days because those ones are the ones that get taken. Isn't that just...like...oh my God! What do you make of that?"

  My mom nods slowly as she flips the pancake in the pan.

  "Hey? That's stupid, right? Crazy."

  I twirl a finger at my temple.

  "Crazzzzzzzyyyyy."

  My mom swallows and nods, managing only a small smile.

  "Yeah, it is."

  I look at her. "Are you alright?"

  "Oh, Tina!"

  She sets down the flipper and runs to my side.


  "Don't hate me! Please, don't hate me! I shouldn't have brought us here! We were out...we were safe...and I brought us back."

  "What? What do you mean?"

  My mom looks at me, her eyes moist, her expression severe.

  "Mom, you're scaring me."

  My voice cracks as I begin to panic.

  "You mean, there are vampires in Templeton?"

  Her eyes move to mine. Shining blue. Desperate.

  "There's something in Templeton. I don't know what for sure."

  "Mom..." I whimper.

  I've never seen my mom like this before - and it scares me.

  She takes my hand and squeezes it.

  "I've never told you this...but when I was about your age, my friend and I...we used to go to this swimming spot off Lancaster Road. Past the train bridge. It was kind of the hangout spot for all us teenagers back then...and," she swallows the knot in her throat and takes a breath before continuing, "one night my friend, Theresa, went there with her boyfriend at the time, Gary, and some other people. And, according to the story, at one point, she went into the bushes to throw up - she'd been drinking too much as usual, I assume, and...and...she never came back. They searched all over for her. For weeks. Her dad owned a car dealership. They had money...and everyone knew their family. But then weeks went by, and years, and finally, I left. I couldn't take it anymore. And it happened to other girls too. Other girls in our school and from the area. They would just go missing. And, yes, always on a rainy day. Anyway, I moved to Portland and took a job at a nursing home. I met your father, we had you, and when you were six we moved to Los Angeles. That was ten years ago already...I can't believe it."

  "So why'd we come back here? Why couldn't we have gone to Portland or something?"

  "I don't know...I guess I just felt that, having left your father, I wanted to come back to something familiar. But it's only been three weeks and already I'm feeling that chill. People aren't very friendly here. They're hostile. You should see some of the people I work with. They'll hardly say a word to me. It's just...not a nice place. Your grandparents are in Boston...so there's nothing keeping us here. If you want to move to Boston..."

  I look at my mom. She really cares about us. She’s so different from my dad that way.

  "Oh, mom. We just got here. I just unpacked. I'm sorry, but," I say, my voice rising, "I'm not scared. That's a crock of crap. The whole thing. I don't believe in vampires. And Mindy - look at her - nothing's happened to her yet. And Stacey Nidermeyer at school - oh, if only - "

  I smile at my mom's look of incomprehension. "Stacey's this girl at school."